


A Slice of Normal

by Tilltheendwilliwrite



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Porn With Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut, тэг заменён на Don't copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 11:15:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17058776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tilltheendwilliwrite/pseuds/Tilltheendwilliwrite
Summary: @salt-n-burn-em-all asked: Dean -ThunderstruckDean has a shit night, then she walks in and he's Thunderstruck.





	A Slice of Normal

## A Dean Winchester One-shot

* * *

Dean had been watching her play pool all night long. He and Sammy had rolled into this hick bar in the middle of podunk nowhere after a Djinn had nearly gotten the best of him.

It left Dean edgy, pissed off, and feeling lucky to still be alive. He’d needed to go somewhere, blow off steam, and drink.

Mostly drink. Drinking was important. Drinking dulled the, “I almost kicked the bucket for the millionth time,” feeling at least for a few hours.

God, he was tired. Tired of hunting. Tired of killing. Tired of almost dying. But that was just their lot in life, his and Sammy’s. It was the family fucking business. Saving people. Hunting the things that went bump in the night. And they were good at it. Getting better all the time. Hell, it was getting to the point where _they_ were the things that scared the things which went bump in the night, but for one night, just one, he wanted a taste of normal.

He wanted to have his pie and eat it too, and that’s when she’d walked into the bar. Wholesome she was not. She wasn’t the girl next door sweet. She wasn’t apple pie and picnics. This one was tough, sexy as hell, and knew it.

Okay, so maybe he didn't want _too_ normal.

She laughed and waved at the bartender, evidently a regular, and headed directly for the pool table in the back. Her white tank top clung to every curve and dip of her body. Her jeans looked painted on, and when the guys lined up to put their money down on the table, Dean knew she was a hustler.

It appeared no one cared, for they handed over their money when she batted her lashes, missed their shots when she flipped her hair or sipped from her sweating bottle of beer, and smiled when she pouted prettily, apologizing for beating them. Again.

Dean watched, and waited, and lusted.

He listened and learned her name was Raquel, but everyone called her Ace. She played for keeps whatever she was up too. She raced cars, shot pool, and could outfight nearly every man in the bar. For a woman who looked like that, all sleek lines and seamless grace, who moved like a panther and watched the bar like a hawk, he knew she’d been in her fair share of scrapes.

“Dean,” Sam murmured, poking him in the ribs. “I’m heading to the hotel.”

“I’ll drive,” he muttered, but Sam only arched a brow.

“It’s across the road.”

“Oh, yeah. Right. You can walk,” Dean said. “See you later, Sammy.”

His brother snorted out a laugh as he walked away. “Good hunting, Dean.”

“Hm,” Dean hummed and nursed his beer.

He liked watching her move. Liked watching her bend over the table, her cleavage right there for him to see, or her ass in those tight fitting jeans. But it wasn’t until the end of the night when she left the tables to dance with a few of her friends, women who’d come into the bar late, that Dean really started to feel the heat of lust kick him in the groin.

She looked up, and their eyes met across the room in the same instant the music for Thunderstruck came on. He felt it at that moment. The hard slap of electric connection between two people when they just… clicked. The music pounded in his blood as she began to stalk toward him. She ignored other people when they talked to her or tried to take her arm until she slid onto Sammy’s vacated stool

“Do you make it a habit of staring at women all night without ever offering to buy them a round?” she quipped, her brow arching in amusement.

Dean smirked and leaned back in his chair. “Wasn’t sure if my interest would be welcome. You seemed to have your hands full already.”

She stole his beer and gave a long pull to the bottle. When she finished, she swept her tongue around her lips and ran her gaze over him in appreciation. “A girl likes a little variety once in a while. Can’t always eat at the same… restaurants.”

Her self-satisfied smirk made him laugh. “No, I guess you can’t. Dean.” He held out his hand.

“Ace.” She gave it a shake and slid from her stool to stand straddling his knee. “Dance?”

“Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t dance.”

“Then a round of pool. If I win, you dance with me.  If you win," Ace shrugged, "dealer’s choice.”

He was right and genuinely _thunderstruck_. She had him shaking at the knees, ready to beg, but Winchesters never begged, not for this at any rate.

“You’re on.” He lifted his beer and followed her when she headed for the table. “You rack, I’ll break,” Dean said before she could tell him the same.

She pouted but didn’t fight him on it.

He’d watched her play fool after fool. Watched her use her sex appeal like a weapon. One he was aware of, but unaffected by when she bent and showed off her cleavage. “Nice rack,” he quipped, chalking his cue stick. “Very professional,” Dean murmured when her head shot up. “Most people mix up the balls,” he shrugged, indicating the table.

She arched a brow. “Are you a shark, Dean? Have you been waiting all night to take a run at me?”

“Not a shark, but I’ve played before.” He sent the cue ball flying down the table to break the set, sending three balls dropping into the pockets. “Well, looky there. Guess I’m stripes.”

He ran the table for a solid ten minutes before misjudging an angle and sending his second to last stripe spinning off the edge of the pocket.

“Thanks for clearing out the mess,” Ace muttered and proceeded to sink ball after ball. She was in the process of lining up for the eight when Dean cocked his hip against the table at her side.

“Really is too bad,” he said softly, sliding his fingers against her ribs.

“What is?” she asked.

“Well, if you win here, you’ll never know what I was going to ask for my prize.”

She paused. “What?”

Dean leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “I have a ‘67 Chevy Impala sitting out front with a very large back seat. Was gonna offer you a better look, but… you know. It’s your win and all.”

She inhaled in excitement, checked her shot, and scratched on the eight ball.

“Huh. Guess I win after all,” Dean chuckled and crossed his arms.

“Were you kidding?” she demanded quietly. “About inviting me to see your car?”

“Darlin’, I never kid about Baby,” Dean hummed and held out his hand.

She took it without hesitation and followed him outside where they crossed the highway to the dark parking lot of the dive hotel where they’d managed to get a room.

“There she is. A thing of beauty.”

Ace walked forward and stroked her fingers up Baby's hood. She ran her hand along the edge of the roof and whistled. “Very nice,” she murmured as she peered through the window at the interior. “That is a very nice backseat. Why don’t you offer me a closer look?”

Dean snickered, liking this woman's spunk and opened the door. She stepped inside, slid over, and looked at him expectantly. “Coming?”

He certainly hoped he would be soon.

He shut the door behind him, dug the keys from his front pocket, and reached over the seat to put them in the ignition. He gave the key a half turn, enough to turn on the dashboard lights and radio, then sat back to look at her.

She smirked at him before sliding closer to place her hand on his thigh. “So, what was the game plan? Were you just going to show off your car or…”

“Definitely the or,” Dean growled as he wrapped his arm around her waist and dragged her into his lap. “Less you got somewhere else you'd rather be?”

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, stroked her hand slowly down his chest, and cupped him through his jeans. “Mm,” she purred in her throat. “I think I'll stick around.”

“Excellent choice,” Dean grinned, skimming his fingers up her back.

Her mouth was on his between one breath and the next, and Dean groaned. “Damn, you taste like apple pie. I love pie.”

“Lip gloss,” she murmured as she dove back in and dragged his belt from his jeans. She threw it in the front seat and shoved at his t-shirt when the heavens gave a deafening crack and opened to thunder water down on Baby’s roof.

For a second time that night, Thunderstruck poured from the speakers and made Dean chuckle a little before he was too caught up in hands and flesh and sultry lips skimming down his torso. A fleeting thought of “When did my shirt come off?” rattled through his brain, but then her mouth was on his nipples, and all Dean could see was stars.

There was a heat to her mouth he’d never felt before, and when he looked down, he swore she was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen.

Hair all over the place, Dean clenched handfuls of it when she began to skate her teeth down his belly, nipping and sucking in all the right places. Her fingers made quick work of his fly; then his dick was out and in her hot, wet mouth.

“Good sweet, fuck!” he bellowed. “Slow down, darlin'. We’ve got time.”

She laughed and took his cock to the back of her throat before sliding off him with a pop. “Oh, I know, Dean. You're just fucking delicious.”

She licked him, root to tip, then sank over him a second time, forcing Dean to recite boring facts about the migration patterns of Canadian Geese, something he’d seen on the Discovery Channel, to keep from blowing his load.

When she finally eased up, he was panting, sweating, and thoroughly enjoying himself. “Damn, girl!”

Ace laughed as she pulled her tank top off over her head. The soft light highlighted a pale purple bra Dean needed to get his hands on.

When she stood all hunched and bent over to push her super tight jeans down, her caged breasts hung right in his face, a too tempting position which had him swirling his tongue over the hard nub poking out the fabric.

He reached around behind her as she struggled, and gave her bra strap the one finger flick which had it snapping open and falling on his face.

“Now there's a lost talent,” she snickered.

“It's a gift,” Dean smirked and dropped her bra on the front seat. He used both hands to massage and lift her perky breasts, and brought them to his lips as she fought down her pants.

Finally, she got one boot and one leg off and growled, “Good enough,” as she slid back into his lap.

“Hell, yeah,” Dean groaned when her very wet core rubbed up and down his shaft. “Condom,” he murmured. “Wallet.”

She bent to dig it from his back pocket, his jeans caught at his ankles. Dean took the opportunity presented to sneak his hand down between them to stroke his fingers over her hot lips and delve deep to curl them up inside her.

A wanton moan was her answer when she leaned back on her hands, condom clenched between her fingers, to grind against his hand and succeed in coating his balls with her wetness.

“Dean,” she whimpered, and he knew she was close.

He’d had a lot of sex, _a lot of sex_ , but never had he been with a woman so responsive. She seemed to grow needier with each plunge of his fingers and rub of his thumb. Never one to leave a lady wanting, he sat up to stroke his tongue over her heaving breast and suck on her nipple. Her free hand clenched in his hair, and she cried out over and over, her sweet body tightening down on his fingers until she came with a gasp and a cry of, “Oh, _fuck_!” that made him exceptionally proud.

She’d actually sounded surprised.

Dean chuckled a little as he sat back, drew his fingers from her clenching walls and brought his hand toward his mouth. “Babe, if that surprised you, you're clearly eatin’ at the wrong restaurants.” She laughed as he slid his fingers into his mouth and moaned at the taste. “Okay, how is it possible you taste like pie?” He couldn't figure it out and wondered if there’d been some left over on his fingers from dinner or something.

“I don’t know, Dean. No one's ever said that before,” she smiled.

“Well, now I gotta know,” he murmured and moved before she knew what he was doing. Flipping their positions, so her back pressed into the seat, he knelt half on the floor, half on the leather. “I need a taste from the source.”

She gasped and shook with the first swipe of his tongue, and Dean had to pause and lean against her thigh. “Fuck. Pussy pie. Awesome.”

He delved in and did his absolute best to lick, suck, and coax every drop of her sweet cream onto his tongue. Ace crested and cried out, shaking and jerking his hair, but Dean didn't stop. A fresh flood of fluid had burst over his face sending him into a frenzy of sucking kisses and slow, thorough licks of her quivering walls.

“You taste amazing,” he groaned, feeling drunk or high, or possibly both.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” she chanted, her hands tight in his hair. “Please, oh, fuck! It's happening again! Oh, I'm gonna come!”

She sounded desperate, wrecked, and Dean smiled, knowing she'd never had better. He focused on her swollen clit. Treated it to swift figure eights, quick flicks, and slow suckles, until she screamed and the lightning flashed outside the windows. The word _Thunderstruck_ ripped through the silence from the radio before the loud crack followed.

Inside the Impala, Dean panted, gasping for breath after nearly suffocating having buried his face against her dripping cunt to catch every last ounce of her release.

“I've never…” Ace sighed. “You're amazing.”

Dean chuckled as he took the opportunity to slide her boot and jeans the rest of the way off while kicking off his own. “Wait till you see what else I can do.”

She sat up, scrambled really, and urged him up so she could return to her previous position. “No, now it's my turn,” she purred.

Once, long ago before he knew better, he would have said the devil came into her eyes, but having seen Lucifer first hand, Dean knew this was only a little inner mischief he could relax and enjoy.

Her hands were lithe and quick as she sheathed him in latex, then shifted to line him up with her well-primed core.

“I'm going to screw your brains out, Dean. You've been so good to me; I want you to sit back and enjoy,” she smiled wickedly and sank down on him before Dean could respond.

His eyes rolled back, the pleasure of being inside her unreal. She began to move, rock and rise and slide up and down his length.

Dean had to clamp his hands to her hips because it felt like she could make her walls ripple, squeeze him in a rapid milking motion with every stroke of his cock. He’d never felt anything so incredible before and let his head fall back, watching her through half-lidded eyes as she smoothed her hands over his chest, then lifted them to play with her breasts.

She pulled and tugged her nipples, moaned and whimpered when Dean braced his feet and began to rock up with each downward plunge until they were fucking each other roughly.

He dropped his thumb to her clit and began to rub, knowing he wouldn't last much longer. “Fuck, Ace. I'm gonna come. You need to be close, sweetheart.”

Her hands returned to his chest, drifting up to cup his face as she leaned forward and kissed him. “S’okay, baby. You did so good, Dean,” she murmured, kissing his chin and cheeks and finally returning to his lips where she moaned as her body began to clamp tighter on his. “I want to feel you come, Dean. I want to know what it’s like when a Winchester let's go.”

A warning bell rang in his head, but Dean was lost to the power of her eyes. She flicked her tongue over his lips, and he opened them happily, moaning when her apple pie flavour returned to his tongue.

“Come for me, Dean,” she whispered. “I'm with you.”

The heat had been building in his core, his balls burning with how hard he held back, but when her body suddenly clenched down, gripped his cock and squeezed, he bellowed out his release, his body jerking, pleasure shrieking through his veins and opened his eyes in time to watch hers burn electric blue.

Then his vision went dark, and he knew no more.

***

A sharp crack of thunder shook him awake, and Dean jolted. Disoriented, he blinked a few times before realizing he was staring at Baby’s roof.

He groaned as he sat up, wondering why he was sleeping in the back seat of his car when he knew they'd gotten a perfectly good dive motel earlier that day.

It flooded back when he sat up and found himself naked and alone. “Son of a bitch! What the hell did that chick do to me?”

Sure he may have just had the best, most mind-blowing, out of this world sex ever, but she was, evidently, supernatural and had done… something to him. He patted all the important places, neck, pecs, his Johnson, and his hair, then reached for his jeans only to spy the sheet of folded paper over the top of the steering wheel.

He struggled into his pants, stuffed his feet in his boots, grabbed his shirts, belt, and the note, pulled the keys from the ignition, noting he’d only been out an hour since he’d brought Ace to the car, and shoved the door open.

Dean swore as the cold rain soaked his skin, and ran to the motel to bang on the door to his room uncertain which pocket had his key. “Sammy! Open the damn door.”

Slow shuffling ensued before Sam wrenched open the door. “Dean? The hell happened to you?”

Dean shoved past Sam to flick on the light, setting his brother swearing as Sam shut and locked the door. Dean sank down on the made bed to flip open the rain-speckled sheet of paper. He read it once, twice, and finally a third time before he started to laugh.

“What? What’s so funny?” Sam asked, and he hand the letter over.

Frowning, Sam took it and read aloud. “Dear Dean. First of all, thank you for a lovely evening. As you may have guessed Ace isn't really my name, when I saw you and Sam tonight, I knew who you were, and wondered if you knew who I was. I planned on seducing you, then kill you. Holy hell, Dean!” Sam gasped.

“Keep reading,” Dean chuckled.

“As a succubus, I can drain a man of his life force with ease. Take a day, a week, a year, or nothing more than a moment. I don't usually. I'm old enough to know how to sustain myself in other ways, but there you were. Dean Winchester. I wondered if you'd come hunting me and decided to turn the tables. After all, how could I pass up such a challenge?

But then you happened. Never in all my days has a man invited me to have sex, then do so with such finesse. Never has a man pleased me as you did. You did things no man has ever done before. I’ve been alive for hundreds of years, but tonight, I was most impressed you weren't just interested in a quick fuck, but in also pleasing your partner.

I took only enough to satisfy my hunger, nothing more then the hour-long nap you’ve now awoken from. I've learned that after all these centuries, I can still be surprised. Thank you for that. And Dean? If we ever cross paths again, I wouldn't be averse to a repeat performance.

Ashi, your friendly neighbourhood succubus. P.S. In the matter of taste, I suit whatever would most please my partner.”

Sam stared at him in disbelief, continuing to look from Dean to the letter and back.

With a snort of laughter, Dean fell over on his back and threw his arm over his eyes. Even when he tried for a slice of _normal_ , a quick tumble in the back seat of his car with a one night stand, it got weird.

“Holy hell, Dean. You slept with a succubus!” Sam gasped as he sat down on his bed.

“Yeah,” Dean smirked. “And it was the best damn sex I ever had. She tasted like pie, Sammy.”

“Pie?” Sam snorted.

Dean’s smile turned smug. “Apple pie.”

**_-The End-_ **


End file.
